


Clashing Blades

by Lobstie



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Duelling, Swordfighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:20:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26407885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lobstie/pseuds/Lobstie
Summary: follow me @CrabCritical on twitter for maybe more content like this
Kudos: 7





	Clashing Blades

**Author's Note:**

> This was voted as the 200 follower milestone by my lovely twitter followers (you can find my over at @CrabCritical) and lemme tell ya it was weird to write something for someone other than myself.

Yasha’s opponent stood before her, their thick, dark armour seemingly absorbing light. That didn’t matter to her, though. All she cared about right now was destroying this tyrant. The figure drew its sword, a long, curved blade carved from obsidian and coated in a viscous fluid she was all too familiar with. She readied her blade as he saluted her. 

Her opponent lunged forward, attempting to bring his sword down upon her, only to be met with a crushing counter-strike overpowering his own, followed by two quick strikes to his side. He retorted with a strike from his clawed gauntlets cleaving across her shoulder, that’s going to scar, she thought. Then she felt the venom coursing through her. A ripple of aching started at the wound before quickly flowing through her upper body and causing her to feel fatigued in an instant. She’d fought through worse, though. She struck at the figure again, though this time her blade stopped. Her opponent had caught the blade in its armoured hand and Yasha gasped before feeling The Magician’s Judge being ripped from her grasp and tossed aside.

Her enemy ready his blade in a deflective stance, seeming to chuckle under his breath. What he didn’t expect was for her to grip his forearm and break it like a twig. This came unexpected, even to her. She’d done this sort of thing before, but never to someone with armour like this. He dropped to his knees, sword on the ground beside him before quickly lunging forward with intent to knock his opponent to the ground. Yasha didn’t allow it to happen. Her feet dug into the ground beneath her feet as she grabbed her foe by the waist and lifted him into the air. He was flailing about helplessly before being dropped on his head and landing himself a concussion.   
An inverted perspective caused his metal visor to fly open, exposing his face.

A scar lay across his left eye, a milky white pupil failing to belie an injury sustained in battle. His other eye, a burnt orange hue, now seemed terrified of the impermeable force before him. He swiped ahead of him with his working arm in an attempt to escape Yasha’s reach. It was too late for that, though. He was backed into a corner, now. No escape. She took his sword from the ground, gripping it so hard her knuckles turned white. She looked over the gore covered blade and stepped towards him.   
‘Stay still, it’ll hurt less.’  
She then plunged the blade into the figure’s stomach with great force, pinning him to the wall. That was where he’d stay. Unmoving and silent.


End file.
